The Benefits of Shrivelfigs
by EssaTheTwerp
Summary: She knew her feelings were important, lasting, because eating Shrivelfigs should not be wrought with this much sexual tension… Then again, she was known for being a little silly. It could all be in her head, couldn't it? One-shot. Written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, Herbology Assessment Three.


**The Benefits of Shrivelfigs**

"I hate Herbology," Hannah Abbott muttered sourly. She was digging deep into the bottom of a potted plant, her nails crusted with thick, dark dirt. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, sticky sweat running down her back as the hot sun bore down on them. The humid greenhouse air was stifling—Hannah wanted nothing more than to sprint down to the lake and jump in.

Plants had never been her thing. She had never harbored any ill will toward them (not until this moment, anyway), but she never loved the class, wasn't inclined to spend any more time in the greenhouses than absolutely necessary.

And then _Neville_ had come along, with his beautiful curly hair and his vivacious smile and his passion for anything green. She was terrified to admit her feelings—well, more terrified of being rejected than the actual act—but she would still jump at the chance to spend time with him. Between training under Tom at the Leaky Cauldron and helping to restore Hogwarts to its full former glory, any downtime she got was much appreciated, and Neville had a calming presence, to say the least.

"Ah, it's not that bad, is it?" asked Neville, causing Hannah to jump and nearly fall over into a row of particularly nasty looking Mandrakes. She huffed and righted herself, trying to dust all the soil off of her pants (although she had a feeling she might just need to retire this pair).

"Neville! You scared me," she huffed, then blushed as what he said sunk in. "Oh, I, ah… I've just never been a big fan of it." Neville regarded her carefully, and then knelt by her side, slowly starting to resort the soil she had packed in—wrongly, apparently.

"Do you know what plant this is?" he finally asked, pointing to the purplish fruit that grew out of the long, leafy green stalk. Hannah's nose wrinkled inadvertently as she tried to remember—it was definitely familiar. In fact, she _knew_ she had handled it before.

The fruit was big and thick, shaped sort of like a pear but with darker pustules adorning it every inch or so. This was nothing compared to the big, long vein-like stems that stuck up through the thin skin of the fruit, a result of the leaves being inside of the plant.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, the name of the plant hitting her suddenly, "It's a Shrivelfig, isn't it? I remember caring for them way back in… oh, wow—it was Second Year, wasn't it?" It was hard thinking back to then; she'd still been in her pigtails phase, and wasn't _that _hard to think about.

"Seems like an impossibly long time ago," Neville muttered, echoing her thoughts. He was still caring carefully for the plant, checking its leaves and summoning some water to make sure it wasn't dry.

"It's pretty," she finally said, and she was telling the truth. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but the color was deep and beautiful, compelling to the eyes and urging whomever came along to look closer, dig deeper.

"See, Hannah? Plants are cool!" Neville chuckled. He leaned back, glanced over the plant once more, and then extracted something from his pocket. Hannah was surprised when he flicked his hand, revealing the thing to be a pocket knife, and promptly reached for a particularly rich-looking fruit.

He cut through the stem quickly and put away the knife before turning to her, grinning at the shock on her face. She'd never seen Neville cut into a plant before—not for any reason—and wanted to know what had encouraged him to do so now.

Curiously, she crept closer as he began to examine the juicy-looking fruit. When he carefully sliced the thin skin with his fingernail, Hannah squinted at the thick, purplish lick that leaked out. "I've never tasted Shrivelfig before," she admitted sheepishly. Neville shrugged, sucking at the fruit deeply before lowering it and wiping at his mouth.

"I hadn't either—it's not cheap. And that's not because it's rare, either… It's because Shrivelfig is _delicious_," he winked.

"Really?" Hannah perked, leaning towards the plant again. She blushed and thanked Neville (perhaps a little too shyly) when he cut off another fruit and sliced the skin for her. "Are you sure they're good?" she asked, a little wary. Shrivelfig was, like she said before, beautiful in its own way, but she hadn't trusted the plants in this greenhouse for a long, long time.

"I promise, Hannah," Neville said, sliding his muddy hand over hers. They caught eyes, and for a moment she couldn't look away—he looked much too serious for what they were talking about, but she had a feeling they weren't speaking of just the Shrivelfigs anymore.

Finally, Hannah let the fruit fall into her palm and then began sucking at the slit, surprised when an incredible burst of flavor hit her tongue. It reminded her of strawberries, but it had the tartness of a grape…

Moaning slightly, she started to slurp it up in earnest, only pausing once she realized how silly she might look in front of Neville. To her pleasure and amusement, he was also busy consuming his fruit, apparently too busy to notice hers.

As she finished the delicious Shrivelfig, Hannah wiped her mouth off with the ratty robes she was wearing and sidled closer to Neville, even brushing against him when he finished his fruit.

"Thanks for showing me how good these are," she smiled lightly.

"It's no problem," Neville shrugged happily, gathering the fruit remains and banishing them to a nearby compost bin. "Everyone is always surprised at how good they taste. I love seeing the look on someone's face when they get that first burst of flavor."

Hannah stared at him, her cheeks slowly going red as she imagined his hands winding around her neck, his fingers fisting through her hair. Roughly pulling her face towards him, slanting his lips over hers…

"I remember the Shrivelfig is used in the Shrinking Solution," Hannah blurted out, a bit embarrassed but desperate for something to get her mind off the hot, fast track it was speeding down.

"Yeah, I remember that, too," Neville said brightly. "I don't think it's used in many other potions, but I think that's why the Shrinking Solution is one of the only potions that's not completely unbearable to drink."

"I'd imagine," Hannah smiled.

She and Neville sat like that—staring at each other, caught up in the moment—for a few seconds, the hot air becoming more compressive by the second. Hannah wanted so badly to make a move, tell him what she felt for him. They had gotten closer and closer, told each other so many things in these past months. She had never really dated anyone before (she didn't think Neville had, either) but she _knew_ that her feelings meant something.

She knew they were important, lasting, because eating Shrivelfigs should _not_ be wrought with this much sexual tension… Then again, she was known for being a little silly. It could all be in her head, couldn't it?

"Neville," she murmured hesitantly, her eyes locked on his trembling mouth. He shushed her by slowing raising his dirty hand to her mouth, tracing the curving line above it with one finger.

"Hannah," he said huskily, a note of something _different_ twisting his voice. She shivered and leaned closer to him, her fingers acting of their own accord as they trailed up his arm and stopped by his heart, closing her eyes and feeling his heartbeat, _thrumthrumthrum_.

"Neville," she repeated, pouring all of her emotion—her pain and fear and excitement and joy—into his name. He swallowed heavily, obviously nervous (even though he didn't need to be—he never need to be nervous, not around her), and then leaned forward one final inch, biting his lip before tipping his head and brushing his lips across hers.

That was all Hannah needed, that one spark of heat, to surge forward, arms circling his torso and pulling him flush against her chest. She pressed deeper into the kiss, eventually letting her tongue flick and dance across his lips until he opened his mouth.

It wasn't her first kiss, but it was most definitely the best she'd ever had, and Hannah didn't want it to end. Neville was so passionate—she'd never felt this good before. He was gentle but strong, holding on to her with steady, sturdy hands.

"_Oh_," Hannah moaned when they finally pulled apart, letting her head drop into the crook of his neck. She was even sweatier than she had been before, probably smelly too…

But with him, in this moment of utter calm and serenity, she didn't care. Hannah just wanted to hold him, and hopefully kiss again.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

This was written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, Herbology Assessment 3, over at the HPFC forum!

Please, drop a review with your thoughts!


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